A Good Day To Live
by da-angel729
Summary: The worlds end. Lee and Kara don't. Warning for non-explicit sexual situations.


**Author's Note:** I own nothing. Some dialogue paraphrased/borrowed from the episode "33", spoilers for the miniseries and that episode only. Written for the 2011 Event at **pilots_presents** at LiveJournal with prompts of _stealth!Snuggle_ and _a detailed look at their first two weeks on Galactica together_, though they're both loosely interpreted. As always, feedback and con crit appreciated!

**A Good Day to Live**

His father's speech should have settled his mind, but Lee can't sleep. He's staring at the bottom of the bunk above his, similar and yet different to the Battlestar he'd spent two years on. Though he's lost track of time somewhere, he knows it hasn't been more than a day since he landed his Viper on _Galactica_'s deck, wanting to be anywhere else. Lee feels ragged, stretched thin, and doesn't think about the people lost.

Can't think about it.

Lee's not entirely convinced his father is telling the truth, about Earth being out there, that he knows where it is. It seems too convenient, now, that there's a place they can go, to escape from the Cylons. He's not denying the mood on the ship seems to have temporarily improved—which isn't saying much—but his father has a habit of saying what people need to hear, even if it's not quite the truth.

He hopes his father is correct, because Lee doesn't want to spend the rest of his life engaged in dogfights with Cylons.

Cylons. Frak.

He's up and out of the bunk, halfway to the door, when he realizes he's not the only one still awake.

Kara's curtain is half drawn, but she's staring blankly at the ceiling above her, in much the same position Lee had been in. It's only the two of them in the bunkroom—he's not sure where Boomer went to, but she disappeared after the ceremony and hasn't been back—and the quiet is grating on his nerves.

He can tell it's getting to Kara, too, because she turns almost immediately as he remains standing in the middle of the room, staring at her.

"Like what you see?"

The joke, loud in the empty and silent room, _feels_ flat, as if Kara merely drudged it up because she thinks it's expected of her.

"Um," Lee says, not sure how he's supposed to answer—there's too much in his head, history and his parents and Zak and genocide—but he's relieved by her small smile.

"Charming as always," Kara says, and sits up, swinging her legs out of the side of her bunk. "What're you doing?"

"Can't sleep." Lee shrugs, then moves back to his locker, where the small bag he'd brought aboard with him is sitting, still packed.

He was supposed to be on _Galactica _only long enough for the decommissioning, and has hardly any personal belongings with him. Lee knows where he's going to get more from but pushes it aside. He doesn't have to deal with that right now. Now, he just needs sleep. Lee reaches into his locker and pulls out his tennis shoes. "Going for a run. Want to join me?"

She's staring at him as he pulls his shoes on, and Lee looks up when she doesn't move. Her eyes are closed and her head's tilted back, and she exhales, slowly before standing up.

"Just let me get my shoes," she says, and as she reaches for her locker the alarm sounds, followed by Gaeta's "All hands, report to stations. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."

Lee grabs his flight suit and helmet out of the locker, pulls it on, heart racing, hands sweating. Kara's faster—his father probably had them run drills because he's always been convinced the Cylons were coming back, and Lee thinks a little hysterically that his father was right—but he's only a step behind her as they race for the Hangar Bay.

Thankfully, the pilots' quarters are close to the hangar, and they're both in their Vipers and in the air less than two minutes after entering the bay, thanks to _Galactica's_ deck crew. Lee makes a mental note to thank them later as his Viper shoots down the launch tube, and focuses his attention in front of him as the Raiders come closer.

"Red Flight, on me. Blue Flight with Starbuck," he ordered the pilots, pleased when they separated neatly and remained in formation.

"Let's get 'em, Apollo," Kara drawls, and he flashes a quick glance at her. She's grinning, Lee can tell, and he grins back, suddenly exhilarated.

Flying's a rush even _without_ the Cylons heading their way. With the Cylons, it focuses his mind and adrenaline on the enemies in front of him, and the Viper seems to respond even more sensitively.

Or, Lee thinks as he executes a perfect barrel roll out of the way of the Raider's weapons, his mind isn't blocking his instincts, like it normally tries to do. His first flight review—the one his father nearly had a conniption over—had read "gifted pilot but too cerebral—needs to let go and listen to instincts. Recommend extra sim time in fast-paced against the enemy exercises". He'd always been think first, act second—and the few times he deviated to act first were his only major life mishaps.

The radio is filled with chatter, calm reports of kills mixed in with loud whoops and hollers when they get a kill. Lee wonders if he should say something—remind them to focus, to not get carried away, but there's a crackle on the radio and then the Comms Specialist's voice comes over the comm.

"All Vipers, return to _Galactica_. I say again, all Vipers, return to _Galactica_."

"Combat landings," Lee says as he flips his Viper, heading for the landing pod. The Viper bounces and jerks to a stop, throwing him against the back of his seat.

"Jump," he hears through his headset, and sighs with relief when he hears "jump complete" through his headset only moments later. Though all members of the Colonial Fleet are trained in the theory of Faster-than-Light jumps, only those in Tactical Fields are taught the actual process and how it works. It's always made Lee a little nervous.

He unbuckles his helmet and stands, stretching, before climbing down the stairs the deck crew had slid up against his Viper. Lee rubs his hand over his hair, feels the grittiness and sweat.

"Still sleepy, Apollo?"

Kara's voice is teasing, and she's grinning, blonde hair dark with sweat and plastered to her head.

"No," he says, and knows it's true. Adrenaline is still flowing through him, through the whole squadron and most of the deck crew. It's going to be a long time before anyone's asleep, and probably a Triad game or two—there's a reason pilots are usually the best players in the Colonial Fleet.

He is going to shower, though, and snag some food.

He'll get sleep eventually.

* * *

><p>Eventually never arrives.<p>

The Cylons are following them, and no one knows why. Every half hour, his pilots are in the air, and there aren't enough to separate them into shifts, not with the number of Raiders the Cylons keep sending, and the slowly increasing time his pilots are out in the air as the civilian ships jump to safety.

Two days in, the entire crew is on edge, jumpy. His eyes feel gritty and dry, and he keeps rubbing them, wishing for eye drops. The other pilots are in various stages of tiredness, leaning against ships and sitting in the Hangar Bay, heads down and eyes closed, trying to catch sleep.

"Sir, Commander Adama wants to see you in the CIC," Chief Tyrol says in a weary voice as Lee walks past him, clipboard in his hands covered in scribbled notes.

"Thanks, Chief," Lee says, tucking his helmet under his arm. Though Chief still hasn't completely thawed toward him—Lee knows he didn't make the best impression, and hadn't particularly cared when he thought he'd only be on the ship for a few hours—but now he is working with this crew and needs them to at least respect them.

"Everyone needs to leave the Hangar Bay," Lee tells the pilots. "Go to your bunks and then meet in the ready room in 20 minutes."

Lee leaves, knowing the pilots won't sleep but hoping the time away from the bustle of the deck crew getting ready for the next round—he's pretty sure the Cylons aren't going anywhere yet and wishes he knew why—and doesn't realize anyone's following him until he hears, "Lee, wait up!"

There are only a handful of people on the ship who call him Lee, and two of them are in the CIC. He stops, turns, sees Kara walking after him, her own helmet tucked under her arm.

She looks tired, eyes tight, hair flattened and sticky with sweat and grease. The Vipers aren't holding up much better than the people, and they've all been trying to help fix them.

"They're not going to get any sleep," she says, falling into step with him.

"I know." Lee sighs, runs a hand through his hair. Frak, he needs a shower. "But maybe they'll relax a little away from everything."

He knows he's kidding himself—the pilots certainly won't relax or rest—and the look Kara gives him only confirms it. Still, he's going to make it mandatory that the pilots at least leave the Hangar.

"What's the Old Man want?" Kara asks as they walk through the corridors, dodging crew members who were stumbling and weaving through the halls.

"Probably wants us to split into shifts," he says, rubbing his eyes as they stop in front of the CIC.

"We don't have enough pilots for that," Kara points out, and he just nods.

"We'll have to make it work," he says, looking at her, and their gazes lock. Lee feels breathless, suddenly, and he thinks, _she's alive_, and they stare at each other, not moving or speaking.

"Sirs?"

The voice of a specialist trying to enter the CIC breaks their stare, and Lee feels a flush creeping over his face. Kara gives him a tired smile and backs away. "I'll get the pilots to their bunks," she says as she walks away.

"Thanks," Lee says, and follows the specialist into the CIC, which is quieter than any time he's been in there.

Half the people sitting at their stations appear to be asleep, or close to it. He sees his father and Tigh standing with Gaeta at the center console, and walks over. They're not talking, merely looking over some star charts, so he doesn't feel any qualms about interrupting.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" He says, nodding to Tigh and Gaeta, who both look like he feels.

"Captain Adama," his father says, in full command mode. "Work out a shift schedule for the pilots. I want you to stretch their time off to an hour to start. Hopefully the Cylons will leave us the frak alone soon enough."

He wants to protest—they don't have enough pilots and he's not sure how the ones he does have work together. Lee also has to hold back a laugh—he knows Kara will gloat over being right—and simply nods. "Yes sir," he says, and turns to go.

There's not enough pilots, he thinks again, and keeps walking toward the Ready Room wondering how he's going to work the new scheduling, but knows he can't complain. Not about this.

He just has to do the best he can.

* * *

><p>Three days later, Lee's more tired than he's ever been in his entire life. His back and legs ache and he just wants to sit in something that isn't a Viper cockpit. But he's got no time. The Cylons haven't stopped finding them, and he's scheduled himself and Kara for the most shifts. Neither of them have had a break in twenty-two hours, but they're both handling it fine.<p>

He doesn't quite believe it, and he knows Kara doesn't either.

Two minutes after entering the Hangar, stims in his pocket, they're practically glaring at each other, Kara's speech ringing through his head. He's doing the best he can, he knows that, but he's never been a CAG before—and certainly not in a situation like this—and he's floundering around on a ship with people he barely knows.

The glare lasts for only a moment, and then they're both laughing.

"Glad I'm not working for you," he says, and she hits his shoulder.

"Damn right you're glad," she says through her laughter, and they giggle—because it's really nothing else, even though Lee can't quite admit he's _giggling_— before he clears his throat.

"So, do I have to smack you in the mouth?" He asks.

She smiles, holds out her hand. "No, I'll take my pills," she says, and pops them in her mouth when he dumps two into her hand. Kara bites down, and Lee just rolls his eyes. He's done that before, and so has she, he knows, and she'll be regretting it later.

"Carry on," he says, and goes over to his own Viper. He hears her snap at Chief Tyrol and grins as he climbs into the cockpit, settling in for his next shift.

It doesn't feel right, to fly with stims. He's done it before—they all have, as part of their training—but he'd definitely been in agreement with Kara about not wanting any. But orders were orders, and his pilots needed them.

The controls don't respond as easily, his reaction to everyone around him is slower. Radio chatter is at a minimum; even with the stims his pilots are exhausted. The Cylons appear, and there's a small skirmish with a few of the raiders, and when he hears the order to return to _Galactica_he's relieved. It'd taken twice as long this time, and he's worried they won't have thirty-three minutes to rest before the next one.

The jump's completed, and Lee's surprised and dismayed to find out one of the civilian ships was left behind. The _Olympic Carrier_has over 1300 people on it and the Fleet's just lost more they can't afford to. Thankfully they haven't lost any more pilots yet, but Lee knows it's only a matter of time.

And he can't stand to think about it.

"Captain, there's a call for you from CIC," Lee hears the Chief say just as he steps off the ladder.

"Thanks, Chief," he says, and picks up the phone on the wall near the exit hatch. "This is Apollo."

"Lee." It's his father, and he sounds exhausted, more tired than Lee's ever heard from him. "I want some Vipers up in the air, in case this is a trick of some sort."

"Yes sir," Lee says, and scans the remaining pilots in the hangar. "I'll get them back in the air ASAP."

"Good." Bill hesitates, and then asks, "How are you holding up?"

"We're tired, but we'll make it," Lee says, hoping his voice is more confident than he feels. "You've got a good group of pilots here."

It's the first time Lee's said anything positive about the ship, he knows, and his father is silent for a moment before he responds, "I know."

Lee smiles and signs off, then gestures Kara over from where she's going over her own Viper with Cally. She hands off the clipboard and then comes over.

"What's up, Lee?"

"The Commander wants us back up in the air. We're putting everyone who just got in back up."

Kara nods and moves off toward the Vipers on the far side of the hangar, where their pilots are conducting post-flight checks. Lee takes the near side, and informs Chief, and within five minutes they're back in the air.

"Break into teams of two, and spread out. Keep equal distance from each other and I want two groups on the outer edge. Starbuck and I will stay in the middle as focal points." He hears assent from all the pilots and they disperse.

* * *

><p>It's over. Done.<p>

He's killed 1,300 people, and he won't forget—no matter what his dad says. Lee's staring at the wall of his bunk, on his side, his back toward the room, though it's empty. He hasn't seen Boomer since they landed, and he's grateful no one else is in the room.

He hears the hatch open, smell's Kara's shampoo as she walks past his bunk. Considers turning, but decides against it. He knows he won't sleep—every time he closes his eyes he sees the ship exploding, hears people screaming.

Wonders if Kara's going to be fine.

It's not every day, Lee thinks, a little hysterically, that you kill 1,300 people.

He jumps when he feels the thin mattress move, and nearly gasps in shock when Kara slides in behind him. "Lee?"

Lee doesn't say anything, tries to control his breathing. He knows he can't fool Kara for long, but can't imagine why she's sliding into his bunk when hers is just feet away.

"I'm sorry," she says, and he turns around, looks her in the eye. "That I hesitated."

"You shouldn't be," he tells her, lifts his arm to place it on her shoulders. "I didn't want to do it, either."

She doesn't say anything else, just closes her eyes, and he just looks at her. Her eyes are ringed by dark circles, outlined starkly against her pale face. One hand is tucked under her face and the other is gripping his shoulder.

"Lee," she says. "We're still alive."

"Yeah," he hears himself say, and then he kisses her.

He's kissed her before, drunken and silly kisses and once, on a dare, but it's never felt like this. She tastes sharp, a little desperate, yet so like the Kara he knew before it takes his breath away.

Kara pulls back, a little, and stares at him. Time slows as she leans forward, kisses him again, hands dropping onto his shoulders to pull him closer.

His hands move, up and down her back. Hers follow the same pattern on his and he loves the echo of movements. Tanks and underwear is discarded swiftly and then he's rolling onto his back, taking her with him.

She grins, trails her lips down his throat as his head tilts back, and pushes up so she's straddling him, hands braced on his chest. She rocks, slowly, and his hands tighten on her hips.

Lee's vision blurs, but Kara's face remains in focus as she moves above him, rocking against him and gasping. Her head falls back as her body tightens and relaxes, and he's helpless to do anything but follow.

He's not sure how long they lay there, breathing deeply, her still sprawled over him. He just knows he doesn't want to move.

"Lee," she whispers, sounding groggy, and he can't help the small smile he feels on his face, or the answering one on hers, grateful they're alone.

"Yeah?" His own voice is raspy and he clears his throat. "What is it?"

"I'm glad you aren't dead."

His heart tightens in his chest at the tone, one he hasn't heard from Kara before. It's a little happy and a lot resigned, and one he knows well from his own life.

"And I'm glad you're not dead," he says, brushing a hand over her hair, smoothing it. "Really glad."

He should feel guiltier, he thinks as she falls asleep against him. But he can't right now, not with Kara alive and mostly well next to him, with her scent drifting through his senses every time he breathes.

They're alive. That's all that matters.

The dead can be mourned later.


End file.
